


Trust Me

by Lamachine



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Bruises, F/F, F/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 09:43:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3063152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lamachine/pseuds/Lamachine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Her body was pressed against his as she smirked; “we have to stop meeting like this.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Lambert grinned, his eyes almost gleeful. “Do we?”</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kesdax](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kesdax/gifts).



“I don’t like this,” Shaw grunted for the tenth time.

 

Root sighed, turning the corner rapidly. The sidewalk was crowded and she had trouble keeping her eyes on the target, which only added to her impatience. “The Machine sent us his number for a reason,” she repeated, struggling to find Lambert’s dark suit in the middle of the mass of New Yorkers rushing to get home.

 

It had taken a bit of digging to identify Lambert as their number, and a lot of discussion as everyone argued for the best course of action. Since they had no technological advantage on Lambert; it would be impossible to jack his phone without him or Samaritan noticing, and so they had no choice but to go with good old reckon techniques. For that reason, it seemed like the logical course of action was to have Reese follow him around, but Reese had a cover to maintain, and meetings planned all afternoon. Finch had suggested that he get out of delivering his usual Tuesday seminar, but Root had convinced him otherwise. Their covers had to be their priority, and Shaw would be helping from underground.

 

“Yeah, I get the whole _stop the perp_ routine,” Shaw continued. Strange, wet sounds came over the comm. line, and Root frowned as Shaw’s voice returned, her words buried under something. “But I don’t like this.”

 

“Are you eating the pie I got you?” Root asked, a smile suddenly curling up her lips, and when nothing but silence replied, she knew she was right. Root silently congratulated herself for the gesture; Shaw complied so much more when her stomach was full.

 

As she turned right on the next corner, still hot on Lambert’s trail, Root pictured how she appeared to Shaw right now; a blinking dot slowly crawling down the lines of a New York map. She felt warmth spreading in her chest at the thought that she had back-up, even though she technically hadn’t; if this was a trap, she had nothing but her two handguns and her taser to protect her. She had refused to take with her the bag Shaw had packed for her; Root really didn’t see the point of bringing hand grenades. If a swarm of Samaritan agents appeared, her best chance was to flee anyway.

 

Lambert took a left and Root’s heart skipped a beat, having lost him for a moment. He made another quick turn into an alleyway and she started wondering if he had noticed her presence behind him. She stuck close to the walls as she followed him in, her pulse beating in her good eardrum. Hiding besides a large garbage container, Root ignored the smell and focused on the noise; a long creak followed by a clunk of metal. She frowned, waiting a few seconds before she looked down the alleyway.

 

Finding it empty she pulled out her gun, slowly advancing down the path, her instincts sharp as stress tensed her muscles.

 

“You’re in the middle of a dead zone,” Shaw confirmed what Root had already guessed. She had long memorized the shadow map, days after Samaritan’s beta test, knowing it could save all of their lives.

 

She heard voices coming from her right and she noticed a large metal sheet partially blocking the entrance to a seemingly abandoned building. She guessed that was where Lambert had disappeared, and hid beside it. Pulling out the camera wire from her pocket she slowly moved it to one of the holes. She held her breath although the noise from the busy street most likely covered her presence.

 

“What am I looking at?” Shaw asked in her ear, voice lower like she was worried someone else could hear. On any other day Root would’ve found it endearing, but for now she had no time to dwell on it.

 

She shrugged and whispered; “you tell me.”

 

The brick wall was hot over the fabric of her cotton t-shirt and she wished she was wearing something other than a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt, but with all the arguing there had been no time to change between aliases. With the wall seemingly burning through her clothes, Root waited for Shaw’s intel.

 

“It looks like he’s meeting someone,” she explained over the comm. line. Root rolled her eyes; that part was already quite clear.

 

“I know _that_ ,” Root complained, still unable to hear what the three – was it four? – men inside the building were talking about.

 

Shaw grunted; “will you stop with the attitude?”

 

Root stopped herself from snapping something back; Shaw had been pretty much useless all day, complaining about being locked inside and repeating over and over that she didn’t trust Lambert. Root had ignored most of her whining, focusing on her job, and constantly reminding herself of how good an operator Shaw was. Only, Shaw was made to be on the field; as Root’s eyes and ears, she wasn’t doing a great job so far.

 

There were noises like footsteps surging from the other end of the alley, and Root moved apart from the wall slightly, trying to get a look at whoever was coming her way. She saw two thugs recharging their guns as they walked just as, in her implant, Shaw’s voice returned; “Root, something’s wrong here.”

 

Her instincts screamed that those weren’t Samaritan agents, and as Root pulled the camera wire, not caring to shove it back in her pocket, she reached the same conclusion as Shaw. “I don’t think he’s the perp.”

 

Instincts took over as Root rushed into the building, her gun drawn out. In the sudden darkness she blinked, barely making out Lambert’s silhouette as she grabbed the sleeve of his blazer. She fired a few rounds at the three men Lambert was meeting with, forcefully pulling him out of the line of fire. She shoved him against a beam of concrete, hiding them both from incoming bullets.

 

Her body was pressed against his as she smirked; “we have to stop meeting like this.”

 

Lambert grinned, his eyes almost gleeful. “Do we?”

 

She ignored his lingering look on her tight-fitted t-shirt and recharged her weapon instead, quickly returning fire. “No guns?” she glanced at him absently.

 

Lambert shrugged. “What is a man that cannot defend himself without a firearm?” Root rolled her eyes. “Anyhow, I have you to protect me now.”

 

The phrasing didn’t sit well with her, but the uneasy sensation left as soon as Shaw groaned in her ears, “I was hoping he was the perp so you could shoot him a little.”

 

Root smiled. “Yeah, me too,” she replied, almost out of breath, ignoring Lambert’s questioning looks. She heard two targets dropping to the floor and winced. Still three left. “Do you know why they want to kill you?”

 

Lambert shook his head and glanced at her second gun as she pulled it out. “Are you going to give me one of those?”

 

Root stopped firing back for a second, glaring at him. Her attention was quickly drawn back to the shootout, but she answered his question anyway; “well I could, but what’s a man who cannot defend himself without a weapon?”

 

He grimaced. “What’s the plan, then?”

 

Root noticed more thugs coming in, and with them a slight panic settling in her gut. “Shaw?”

 

“Exit on your right,” she simply ordered, and her calm tone forced a smile on Root’s lips.

 

“On our way,” she breathed out, starting to move. “Come on boy,” she told Lambert when he didn’t follow right away, blinking like he was fazed. Root had no time to ponder on his reactions and she pulled on his sleeve instead, tugging on it as she rushed to her right.

 

Following Shaw’s sharp and clear directions, Root held onto Lambert’s blazer, hauling him behind her as she would a child. Every now and then she shot him a glance, finding him either grinning at her like an idiot, or worrying at his lip absently.

 

As she dragged him into an underground garage, obeying Shaw’s orders without question, Root finally let go. “What was your meeting for?”

 

Lambert shrugged, straightening his dark blue suit. “I don’t know, you’d have to ask my boss,” he smirked. His careless attitude only wavered when he noticed a red stream of blood running down Root’s forearm. “You’ve been shot,” he observed, almost dazed.

 

“Thanks for noticing,” Root answered with gritted teeth. She quickly went from car to car, trying to find an unlocked door since she hadn’t brought a slim jack with her. In her ear, Shaw reminded her that she had packed one for her in the bag Root had refused to take along, and Root groaned in frustration.

 

A large, green SUV appeared beside her, Lambert triumphantly staring at her from behind the driver’s wheel. “Would you like a ride?”

 

Root glared at him, aiming her Smith & Wesson at his head. “I’m driving.”

 

“You’re hurt,” Lambert pointed out, his eyes softening. “Trust me on this; I have no desire to die today.”

 

Hesitating for a second, Root finally complied when she felt a headache coming on. She rapidly made her way to the passenger side, pulling herself on the seat with difficulty. The pain in her arm was starting to get numb, but she felt her muscles tiring. She tore apart the bottom part of her t-shirt, struggling to create a makeshift tourniquet as Lambert drove the SUV out of the underground parking garage.

 

As he made his way through traffic, Root realised there was no way out for her. Samaritan had to know a kill order had been placed on one of his assets and a rescue was sure to be on the way. Then again, the Machine had given them his number, which meant Root had to stick around a bit longer.

 

In her ear, Shaw seemed to have drawn a similar conclusion. “Root, a guy like Lambert is going to have protection,” she deduced. If Root hadn’t known better, she would have thought Shaw was worried; instead, Root blamed her growing exhaustion for making her imagine things. “Get out of there.”

 

Drowsiness rushed over her like a wave and Root closed her eyes for a second, trying to regain her breath. When she opened her eyelids again the sky had paled and the SUV had stopped.

 

She blinked, quickly noticing Lambert on her right side, a large field spread behind him. He had taken off his blazer and stood between Root and the outside, the opened door resting on its hinges. With his rolled up sleeves and the buzzing of crickets around him, he looked nothing like the man she had followed downtown all afternoon. The sunlight gleamed in the faint traces of blood on his hands and he grabbed a baby wipe from a bright green plastic container to clean it off.

 

“You lost a lot of blood,” he explained, and Root looked at the back seat to find an emergency kit with a bloody needle on top. She glanced at her wounded arm, badly sutured.

 

“Root?” Shaw’s strained voice came to her, almost like a distant dream. Root forced her dazed mind to focus on it. “Root, say something,” Shaw almost begged.

 

Root cleared her sore throat. “Yeah I’m okay,” she answered with a croak, wondering if he knew about her opened comm. line and simply hadn’t found a way to shut it off.

 

He offered a bottle of water and she grabbed it without question, twisting it open.

 

“There’s bagged juice too,” he smiled, throwing a fleeting look at the SUV they had stolen. “And what I think are cookies.”

 

Root closed her eyes as the water trickled down her dry throat, soothing. It seemed to make the world a bit clearer when she opened her eyes again, slightly invigorated.

 

“Where are we?” she asked in one breath, and when Lambert opened his mouth to reply she shook her head; “I wasn’t talking to you.”

 

Shaw offered her coordinates outside of town, but they seemed wrong. She frowned, sparing a look around her.

 

“Oh, I might have fiddled with your GPS,” Lambert grinned, kicking the dirt with the tip of his clean leather shoes. “I hope you don’t mind: I’d rather keep you to myself for now.”

 

With one discreet movement, Root noticed Lambert had taken away her guns, but had failed to notice her taser. She grabbed a hold of it despite her shaking hands and rapidly pressed it against his neck. Lambert’s eyes widened in surprise as he fell to the ground and Root didn’t break his fall, holding onto the SUV’s door, trying to stay upright herself.

 

“Root?” Shaw worried in her implant. “What’s going on?”

 

Wiping the sweat from her forehead, Root took a deep breath to steady herself. “I’m just preparing to have a chat with our friend.”

 

The sunlight burned her skin, hot and tiring as she struggled to pull Lambert on the SUV’s backseat. As soon as she managed to place him there, she grabbed the seat belts and tightly tied him up. Shaw wasn’t saying a word when Root slipped behind the driver’s wheel, but as soon as her foot hit the gas pedal, she heard her again.

 

“Tell me where you are,” Shaw insisted. There was urgency in her voice and it didn’t sit well with Root. She guessed Shaw was just about ready to storm out of the underground station and that the only thing keeping her there was her lack of intel.

 

“I can deal with this Sam,” Root breathed out as she parked the car under a freeway. She swallowed a few mouthfuls of water, grimacing at its warmth and its plastic taste. Still it helped focus her, and Root blinked, hoping she was right to think that she could handle this on her own.

 

She turned to glance at her prisoner, sprawled on the backseat, slowly regaining his strength.

 

“Where I am from, it’s considered polite to buy a man a drink first,” he winked lazily, pulling on his restraints to sit upright.

 

Root looked at the bottle of water she had nearly finished, a few drops trickling down the container and reaching her fingers.

 

“You didn’t put anything in that water,” she told him as if surprised.

 

Lambert smirked; “well I am a gentleman,” he cleared his throat, his pupils still dilated. “I’d never use such a trick. Especially not on a woman like you.”

 

Shaw groaned in Root’s ear. “That guy is so annoying,” she complained.

 

There was a mixture of curiosity and fear in Lambert’s eyes, and Root smiled back as she pulled out the keys from the ignition. She shifted to kneel on the floor in front of him, running the tip of one key down his neck. The muscles tensed underneath, his skin turning white and then red in one long streak.

 

“I think he’s charming,” Root replied, resting her elbows on his lap. He blinked in surprise and she widened her smile. “Aren’t you charming?”

 

Lambert swallowed hard as Root’s other hand landed on his chest, just over his sternum. “I can be charming if you want me to,” he answered, struggling to keep his cocky grin in place.

 

Root nodded in approval. “Good boy,” she pressed the key at the crook of his neck, pushing it down to dig into the muscles and nerves painfully. He clenched his jaw and held onto his breath. “What was the meeting for?”

 

Lambert shifted on the seat when she finally released the pressure. “I don’t know.”

 

Leaning closer, Root felt his temperature rising, his body responding to the shock. “A brilliant man like you, you must have _some_ idea of why you were sent there,” she almost purred.

 

“I have many ideas,” he smirked, licking his lower lip as he glanced down Root’s t-shirt. “Would you like to hear them?”

 

Root shook her head, but offered a wicked smile; “some other time, maybe.”

 

Her voice came out husked and she heard Shaw taking in a sharp breath. It sent a bolt of arousal down her spine, cutting through the exhaustion like a knife. Root returned the key to his neck and pressed down harder, gazing at the sweat that gathered on his forehead as he struggled with his restraints. “You know,” she licked her lip, “pulling like that puts a lot of strain on the shoulder.”

 

She pinched his chin with her index and thumb, and forced him to look at her even as her other hand continued to torture him. “You wouldn’t want to dislocate it, now would you?”

 

He shook his head and stopped struggling, and Root rewarded him by pulling apart. “Although I suppose I could snap it back in place,” she promised, “and then dislocate it again. We could do this over and over.”

 

Lambert groaned and she gleamed. “Would you like that?”

 

He didn’t reply and she lost her patience, fisting his hair and tugging at his scalp violently. “Would you like that?” she repeated angrily, ignoring the sound of Shaw’s breathing over the comm. line.

 

Smiling like he was enamoured with her, Lambert grinned through the pain; “I love your perfume,” he purred, his voice relaxed like he was enjoying himself. “It’s fierce and unapologetic, just like you.”

 

Shaw grunted in Root’s implant. “He doesn’t know you,” she disagreed.

 

“I can be whatever you want me to, you know,” Root suggested almost seductively, leaving her position on the floor in front of him to straddle him instead. She leaned down on him because of the low ceiling of the SUV, even as her knees dug into the backseat on each side of him. Curled up as she was over him, she felt the tension rising in his muscles, his breath becoming scarce.

 

“Can you?” he breathed out, his eyes staring at her lips. Root smirked, running fingers in his short hair.

 

“I don’t hate you, Jeremy,” she whispered like a promise, her thumb running down his ear as her fingernails dug into his scalp. “Do you hate me?”

 

He shook his head lightly. “I don’t,” he replied, a light moan coming out of him when Root’s hand came to press at the bruises she had just given him.

 

“What are you doing?” Shaw asked in her implant, impatient, sounding almost furious.

 

Root ignored her. “We could help each other,” she suggested, her fingers absently toying with the buttons of his shirt.

 

Lambert swallowed hard. “I know what you’re doing,” he whispered like he was begging for _something_ , and Root smirked.

 

“Do you want me to stop?” she questioned him with a naive voice, her hand running down his chest, fingers dangerously aiming for his pants.

 

“God no,” he breathed out, closing his eyes.

 

“Root,” Shaw insisted in her ear once again. “What the fuck are you doing?”

 

Root chuckled as she let her head rest on Lambert’s shoulder, his warmth seeping through his shirt and strangely soothing her throbbing forehead. She felt so very tired as she muttered a strained; “do you trust me?”

 

She heard no replies; Lambert suddenly held onto his breath and so did Shaw, and Root frowned. Her forehead dug deeper into the crook of Lambert’s neck, just over where she had bruised him with the keys. He hissed in pain and Root felt his gasp running down her skin as he answered; “I don’t.”

 

Root smiled almost sadly, face hidden in his shoulder. She licked her lips as she forced herself back up, blinking to force her eyes to focus. “Very good, Jeremy,” she cupped his cheek gently. “But right now, you need to trust me.”

 

“How do I know you’re not the ones who hired those thugs to kill me?” he replied, slowly regaining his senses.

 

“And waste our time with a pawn?” Root shook her head.

 

Lambert drew in a sharp breath as Root cruelly jabbed the keys right under his ribs, hitting him hard.

 

“Do I look like I love to waste my time?” she asked with a harsher voice, pushing the keys inside him even more. Tears gathered in his eyes as he struggled to breathe.

 

It was only with a pained voice that he finally managed to let out a short “no, you do not.”

 

Root smiled, grinding on him as she readjusted her position above him. He moaned slightly at that and she smiled. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

 

Lambert closed his eyes again, his hands closed around the seatbelts, knuckles turning white as he nodded.

 

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Root bit on her lower lip, leaning forward to reach his left ear. “I do too.”

 

She heard something that sounded like a frustrated sigh in her implant, and she chuckled. “I’ll tell you something else, _Jeremy_ ,” she insisted on his name before she jabbed the keys in his side once again, feeling him tensing up underneath her. “The key is to breathe through the pain.” She placed a chaste peck on his cheek as she pulled away from him.

 

Lambert nodded, tears glistening in his eyes. “I’ll try to remember that.”

 

Root grinned, their looks meeting again. The sun was starting to set down and in the darkness, Lambert almost seemed lost. “Now, who were those men shooting at you?” she asked once more, and this time Lambert didn’t avert his gaze.

 

“Samaritan is reaffirming its hold on the gun trade,” he started to explain. “Some new players in town don’t like the rules in place.”

 

Nodding, Root pretended to know that information already even though she didn’t have a clue. None of the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, but it was still reassuring to have one more piece to work with.

 

“Why didn’t you have back-up?” Root questioned, leaning back.

 

“Gentlemen’s agreement,” Lambert simply stated, looking out the window at the setting sun on the field. “Or so I’ve been told.”

 

His jaw was rigorously tensed and Root guessed he knew more than he let on. She allowed a few seconds of silence to pass before she challenged him again; “why does Samaritan wants you dead?”

 

Lambert’s lips turned into a straight tight line, and Root absently let go of the keys, throwing them back on the driver’s seat. The clinking sound seemed to pull him out of his thoughts.

 

“Samaritan doesn’t like having its orders questioned,” he simply answered.

 

“Trouble in paradise?” Shaw butted in, mocking him, and Root chose to ignore her again. Where Shaw was openly rejoicing over his situation, Root found she couldn’t do the same. If it had been her God shunning her like that, she would’ve been broken beyond repair.

 

Root didn’t know which, of Lambert or her, was more surprised to see her hand returning to his hair, her fingers running in his short curls, combing it in place gently. The gesture was rewarded with a puzzled look.

 

“I’m not a good man,” he warned her almost softly.

 

“I’m not a good woman,” she replied in the same breath.

 

He frowned; “why did you save me?”

 

Root shrugged. “She asked me to.”

 

She waited a few beats before she looked down at her bandaged arm. “Why did you patch me up?”

 

Lambert seemed to hesitate before a cocky grin returned to his traits. “I told you,” he grinned, “I’m a gentleman.”

 

Root shook her head, leaving his lap to return to the driver’s seat. As she adjusted the mirror she noticed his devilish smile and realised he had been staring at her ass, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she glared at his reflection, but that only furthered his smirk.

 

“Well I know only one way to protect you from Samaritan,” Root cleared her throat as she pushed the key into the ignition.

 

“Root, no,” Shaw disagreed strongly. “For all we know it’s a trap.”

 

“It’s not a trick,” she rolled her eyes, turning on the SUV’s engine.

 

From the backseat, Lambert teased; “you’re going to shove me down that hole you threw your girlfriend in?”

 

The uneasiness returned to Root for a moment, making her doubt herself.

 

“More or less,” she replied, getting on the highway to drive back to the city. She pictured the shadow map in her head, knowing Shaw wouldn’t be of any help, as she was currently busy telling Root over and over that she did not agree with Root’s decision.

 

“It’s what we’re doing, Shaw,” Root firmly settled. “Trust me.”

 

Shaw’s arguing continued, turning into a buzzing in Root’s implant until Root lost her patience and turned the device off. She had only a few seconds of quiet before Lambert laughed. “Trouble in paradise?”

 

He had spoken with the same tone that Shaw had used before him and the coincidence annoyed Root even more. She could already hear the speech Finch would give her about endangering them all by believing Lambert’s story. But she was certain he was speaking the truth, and she had been at the front of this war since the beginning; Root was starting to believe that she was the only one able to see where they were headed. The others had a few glimpses of the battlefield, but in the long run, they were blind. Root shook her head; she had made her decision.

 

She ditched the SUV just outside of town, grabbing Lambert’s discarded blazer and putting it on to hide the bandage on her arm that was sure to attract unwanted attention. It was too large for her, and yet Lambert gazed at her with an approving look. She sighed in irritation before she grabbed her gun, grimacing when she realised she was almost out of ammo. She took off the security and aimed it towards him.

 

“No running away,” she warned, “or I’m emptying it in your chest.”

 

Lambert smiled. “And I thought you were one of the good guys,” he shook his head as she untied one of his hands. He undid the other knots as she kept the muzzle pointed at him, her expression both calm and threatening.

 

They walked nearly a mile before they found a diner where they stole another vehicle. Root locked him up in the trunk before she highjacked the car. She thought of turning her implant back on, but decided against it; not having the energy to suffer through more of Shaw’s disapproval. Instead, she concentrated on taking sharp turns and quick stops, imagining Lambert’s curses as his body hit the sides of the trunk every time.

 

When she arrived closer to one of the entrances leading into the abandoned station, Root parked the car and tore another part of her shirt. She left the driver’s seat to pop open the trunk, taking a zip-tie out of her pocket.

 

“Kinky,” he smirked as she tied his wrists behind his back. Despite the cool summer evening the city was quiet around them as she blindfolded him without a word.

 

Root guided him towards the station, taking a few detours to ensure he wouldn’t be able to find it on his own, would he escape. When they finally walked in Shaw rushed to meet them, her gun pulled out, an angry look on her face.

 

As if he had picked up on her presence, Lambert grinned. “Ms Shaw, I presume?”

 

Root didn’t have the time to blink; already Shaw had punched him unconscious and he fell to the floor in a matter of seconds.

 

“Where the hell have you been?” Shaw nearly barked at her.

 

Pulling her eyes away from the unconscious man pooling at her feet, Root blinked. “Were you worried about me, Sameen?”

 

Shaw clenched her jaw, refusing to answer. “What the fuck do you want us to do with him?”

 

Root shrugged. “It’s war, Shaw,” she replied like she couldn’t care less what happened next.

 

“So?” Shaw insisted, crossing her arms in front of her.

 

“Wars have prisoners,” Root explained.

 

Shaw sighed in frustration. “Well I’m not babysitting him.”

 

They both took another look at him, Root feeling her cheeks burning when Shaw silently realised whose blazer she was wearing.

 

“Someone has to,” Root argued weakly.

 

Shaking her head, Shaw suggested with a detached voice; “we could just kill him.”

 

Root frowned. “He has valuable information,” she reminded Shaw.

 

It took a few seconds before Shaw spoke again, irritation seeping through her words. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you have a thing for him.”

 

Too warm in the blazer, Root’s cheeks flared up. “If I didn’t know better,” she felt her heart beating wildly at the thought, “I’d say you’re jealous.”

 

Shaw groaned in annoyance, but didn’t contest Root’s claim. Instead, she picked him up from the floor, holding him just under his arms to pull him into one of the empty rooms. Root took off Lambert’s blazer from her shoulders, carefully folding it as she followed Shaw, trekking at a snail’s pace across the station.

 

“This would go a lot faster if you were helping, you know,” Shaw complained.

 

Root pouted. “I got hurt.”

 

Shaw shot a glance at the bandaged arm. “I’ll take a look at it later,” she shrugged. She took a few more steps before she added; “there’s some pie left on Finch’s desk.”

 

“You didn’t like it?” Root tried to hide her disappointed, but she knew she had failed when Shaw grimaced.

 

Shaw waited a few seconds before she replied, averting her eyes away from Root’s. “You need to eat,” she answered like it was nothing.

 

When Root continued to follow her down the platform, Shaw groaned. “Go,” she ordered, “I’ll take care of him.”

 

Root nodded before she turned around, stopping again after a few steps. “Shaw?” she waited to get her attention. “Don’t be too hard on him.”

 

Her heartbeat accelerated as Shaw glared at her. “Go eat your pie,” she repeated, but her voice had softened. Root gleamed as she made her way towards Finch’s desk, the blazer still dangling from her arm, neatly folded.


End file.
